Dreams
by Araindil
Summary: Seto once told Mokuba, Dreams are important. Oneshot, starring the Kaiba brothers.


**Disclaimer**: Look, if I owned Yu-Gi-Oh, the bad animation lately would _definitely_ not be happening...

**Dreams**

_Hold fast to dreams  
For if dreams die  
Life is a broken-winged bird  
That cannot fly. _

Hold fast to dreams  
For when dreams go  
Life is a barren field  
Frozen with snow.

_-Langston Hughes_

* * *

One of Mokuba's early memories was of drawing with his big brother. They were still in the orphanage back then, and Seto often read or colored simple drawings with him. One particular picture stuck in Mokuba's memory, that of a pretty cottage in the mountains. Mokuba would color the cottage a light shade of yellow, but the door always turned out blue in the end. Blue was Seto's favorite color. 

Or at least, it used to be. Mokuba wasn't sure if Seto still had a favorite color, or if he even cared.

His brother had changed a lot, that was for sure. But Mokuba still remembered their conversations about that cottage. He didn't remember much else from when he was very young, but those memories clung to him.

"I wanna house like that, Seto, a real nice house in the mountains, way up high." He'd look to his brother with joyful eyes. "Wouldn't that be so cool?"

And his brother would smile and look at the picture with him. "That would be nice. I'm going to get us a place like that someday, Mokuba."

"Alright!" Mokuba would jump and clap his hands happily. "You're the best, Seto!"

Now Mokuba sat at a large bay window in their mansion, staring out at the darkness of nighttime. Past the glass, past the darkness, he could see a glimmer of the hundreds of lights twinkling from the city in the distance. So bright, yet so dim, so small but large and inconceivable. Like his dreams, like his imaginings...

Mokuba shook his head. Those had been childish days, and filled with silly thoughts. It was all fluff and nonsense, he told himself -- but still, he couldn't help but sometimes still want a peaceful place like that to live, somewhere in the mountains, where things weren't so complicated.

Certainly, Seto's fortune could buy Mokuba any countryside retreat he wanted, but that wasn't the point. Any vacation the brothers took was sure to be interrupted by business dealings. Even during meals, Seto's phone rang off the hook.

Mokuba sighed and rested his chin on his hands, continuing to stare unseeingly out the ornamental window.

Everything had changed. Most of the time he was happy, happy that his brother was such a famous and respected person, happy with their life, so different from the days when they had just been two orphans alone in the world. Still, there were times when Mokuba resented all the technology and money that surrounded his and his brother's lives.

Mokuba wished that instead of all that technology, there could be some simplicity. Seto scoffed at that, said it was so crude and prehistoric, but Mokuba silently disagreed. He liked things that were simple, simple and sweet. Like his music box...

But Seto didn't like his music box either.

Power. That was what Seto wanted now. Power over technology, power over people, power to control everything. You could tell from the way he made the KaibaCorps building the highest in town. You could see it from the way he demanded near slave-like obedience from underlings, from the way he sought to control them.

And you could see it from the way Seto stacked his dueling deck with the rarest and most powerful cards ever seen.

Like the Blue Eyes White Dragon.

Power. Sometimes Mokuba even wondered just what his brother cared more for -- Blue Eyes or Mokuba?

_No, that's not right,_ he told himself. _Seto cares about me, more than anything. He was willing to put his life on the line to rescue me from Pegasus. My big brother cares about me._

Still, he couldn't help but wonder sometimes when he was alone, like right now.

Mokuba glanced at his wristwatch. It was past eleven o'clock already. The household was settling into the quietness of nighttime, there were no footsteps in the halls as servants and security passed to and fro, no sounds of voices conversing quietly.

And there was no sign of activity down in the driveway. No twinkle of headlights. No crunch of gravel as the limo pulled in. No sharp click of the door as Seto returned home.

It was late, and Mokuba was tired, but he refused to go to bed until his big brother was home. Seto had promised to come home for dinner today, he promised that work wouldn't delay him today. Mokuba had waited. He remembered how slowly the antique clock in the dining room had ticked, how slowly the minutes had passed. Six o'clock. Seven o'clock. Eight o'clock.

The maidservant had quietly suggested that "master Mokuba" take his evening meal without big brother, as he didn't seem to be coming home any time soon. Mokuba had waved her off, and told the servants to dine first. He wasn't hungry.

Three more hours had passed since then, with Mokuba perched on the seat of the bay window, the curtain resting softly by his shoulder as he watched the silent driveway, alert and vigilant as any sentinel. He watched the daylight fading, saw the golden light of the setting sun drain away from the skies as darkness overtook it from the east. He watched as a pale crescent moon rose in the sky, and the stars blinked sleepily from their heavenly homes.

Still, his big brother didn't come home.

Mokuba wondered where Seto was. He wondered if something really important had come up at the last minute. Maybe Seto had to deal with some crisis or other back at the office, and he was too busy to come home. Maybe he was too caught up, too swamped with work to come home and have dinner with Mokuba. Maybe Seto hadn't had time to eat dinner at all.

Maybe that was why he hadn't even called home.

Mokuba sat back, hugging his knees to his chest in a childish display of insecurity. He wished Seto had at least called. Then he would know that his big brother was all right, that he was just busy, that he hadn't forgotten all about Mokuba...

_Seto wouldn't forget me..._ he thought wearily. _He promised to always be there for me. He wouldn't forget something as important as that..._

Promises were important, Seto had said that himself. Back when they were in the orphanage, when they were dependant and under the power of others. Seto told him that he would never break a promise to his little brother. They were family, they were brothers, and brothers trusted and depended on each other. Promises were the binding ties of their life...

...Just like dreams.

Blinking sleepily, Mokuba rested his chin on his knees, continuing to watch the driveway.

Seto once believed in dreams, Mokuba remembered a time when his big brother still smiled, when his eyes were warm with life and love. He remembered how Seto used to tuck him into bed, how he would ask his big brother to tell him a story. Seto had never liked fairy-tales too much, so he'd make up his own stories. They were always about two brothers who lived happily by themselves, in a mountain cottage, in a shack by the boundless sea, in a little house amidst a beautiful forest...

It wasn't until he was older that Mokuba realized Seto had been talking about them, that the children in his make-believe stories were hopeful reflections of themselves. Mokuba realized that, in a roundabout way, Seto had been telling him all his dreams through those bedtime stories.

But it had all changed. It changed when Mokuba grew older, more independant, wanting to follow after his brother's strong and courageous ways. Now, he thought that Seto had been the first to change -- he had changed from the hopeful, brilliant childhood prodigy, and became a cunning man worthy of fear and respect.

Mokuba never saw that side of him, still didn't, really. He knew it existed, knew that it was the personality Seto presented to his business partners and employees, but Mokuba always Seto as the big brother he'd always admired. He still did. Except...

Except when the nights were dark and lonely, and Seto was too busy to spare a little time for him -- not tell him stories, or tuck him into bed, but just to be there for him when he needed a little comfort and reassurance.

Mokuba shivered slightly, whether from fatigue or actual cold, he didn't know. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he blinked and gazed down at the driveway, willing for the limo to suddenly appear. His silent prayers remained unanswered.

It was eleven-forty now. Seto still wasn't home.

Mokuba hugged himself closer, wondering why he suddenly felt so alone. This wasn't the first time Seto had to stay late at the office, and he knew it wasn't going to be the last. He'd always been fine before, he'd never been plagued by this insecurity in all the numerous times when Seto wasn't home. He wasn't a baby anymore, he should know how to take care of himself...

He could be strong. It was just a late day, at work, after all. Seto would be there in the morning, no doubt with an apology and a reason for why he'd missed dinner. And Mokuba would forgive him, like he always did. Everything would be fine...everything would be like it was...

Blinking, Mokuba felt his eyelids grow heavy, even as liquid tears blurred his vision.

He didn't want things to be the way it was. He wanted the old days back. He wanted the old Seto back, the Seto who could smile and laugh, and mean it when he talked about his dreams for the future.

He wanted those dreams to be real. He wanted those dreams instead of the lonely reality that he lived in now.

A single tear rolled down his cheek, splashing warmly on his hand.

Below, the driveway remained silent in the dark nighttime.

* * *

The mansion was completely silent as the dark-blue Porsche pulled into the driveway. Seto Kaiba emerged from the driver's seat, locking the car behind him without even thinking about it. 

His watch read 1:47 a.m. He sighed inwardly; it didn't beat his record for longest day at the office -- not by a long shot -- but that didn't change the fact that he was worn out.

The only ones up at this hour with a legitimate excuse were the guards. And if they _weren't_ awake, someone was going to have to answer to a highly annoyed Seto Kaiba.

He sighed, unlocking the mansion door and stepping into the heavier darkness indoors. There really wasn't enough time or energy right now to worry about that. If someone decided to randomly attack his home tonight, Seto was just going to have to trust the guards and his security system.

The door shut softly behind him, and he locked it quietly, not wanting to disturb the restful silence. Right now, all he wanted was to catch a few hours of sleep before he had to get up again.

Climbing upstairs, however, Seto first went to check on Mokuba. He felt a twinge of guilt for being home so late; after all, he had promised Mokuba that he'd be home for dinner tonight -- or last night, by now. Still, some things couldn't be helped. This was life after all, and Seto trusted his little brother to have enough common sense to realize that.

However, upon reaching the top of the stairs, he paused.

The first thing that caught his attention was the tinkling music, or rather, the _lack_ of it. One thing that perpetually puzzled Seto was the little music box his brother always kept by his bedside. Neither of them knew where it had come from, but Mokuba had always had it for as long as they could remember.

It used to annoy Seto to no end, because the music box was partly broken and had a way of arbitrarily setting itself off -- always during the middle of the night. Mokuba never heard it (he must have grown too used to the sound to notice), but Seto would wake up with a start whenever the haunting, tinkling melody played out. Seto hated it, but Mokuba refused to give up the music box

That situation had been resolved by Seto moving his bedroom to the other end of the hall. But sometimes, he could still hear the music in the middle of the night.

But not tonight. Seto tensed instinctively. It took him a moment to remind himself that maybe the music box had decided to not play tonight. Or maybe Mokuba had finally put it away, somewhere where it couldn't be heard...

...And maybe the world would implode in five seconds.

Seto shook his head to himself. No, that couldn't be it. It was practically against the laws of nature. Mokuba would keep that box, for how long, no one knew. And for just as long, it would always play just when he didn't want it to. Like right now.

Except it wasn't.

That alone was enough to alarm Seto, but as he quietly made his way down the hall, he saw that the door to Mokuba's door was partly open. A slim column of moonlight seeped from the opening, a thin finger of paleness that pierced the darkened hall.

Seto's heartbeat quickened. All of his earlier fatigue was suddenly gone. What was going on here? There were three things that were constant in the Kaiba household: the brothers' devotion to each other, the music box, and Mokuba's perpetual, irrational fear of half-open doors. The younger Kaiba would never leave his door like this at night.

His step quickened, covering the rest of the distance to the door in less than a second. Something wasn't right here, and Seto Kaiba was going to get to the bottom of this.

The door swung open silently at his gentle push. His eyes scanned the room in a flash, his body tense with anticipation. Was his paranoia actually becoming reality? Had some random criminal decided to infiltrate the mansion tonight...?

But Mokuba's room looked perfectly normal. Except its occupant was missing. The curtains weren't drawn, and the bed hadn't been slept in.

Seto's hands grew cold. His brother was missing.

His _brother_ was missing!

This must be a dream. This couldn't really be happening! He strode into the room, looking around with a dazed panic. But there was nothing else to be found, no clues to be deciphered. Nothing was out of place, except for one missing Mokuba Kaiba.

Standing in the middle of the room, Seto took a moment to calm himself down. There was no need for alarm yet. No need to wake up the entire household to look for his brother. Mokuba might have just decided to sleep in a different room...

Seto turned and practically ran back into the hall. He looked up and down the dark corridor, searching frantically for some clue to lead him.

Then he saw it. The drawing room across the hall. The door was closed. By all rights, that room was always left open because it had a tendency to get stuffy and overheated when the door was closed. Only one person would shut the door and leave it like that.

Mokuba.

Seto turned the knob softly, wondering what on earth his brother could be doing in the drawing room. There were only a few chairs in there; the room was mainly for entertaining the few rich aristocrats who visited. Why would Mokuba go there?

The room was utterly still as Seto stepped inside. As predicted, the drawing room was already much too warm for comfort. But that wasn't what drew his attention at the moment, for there, on the shallow bay window seat he could see a small figure sillouetted against the pale moonlight. Dim silver was streaked over bushy black locks, forming something like a halo about the dark head.

Seto's silent steps soon brought him to his brother's side. A mixture of emotions washed through him ­-- relief that he'd found Mokuba, confusion as to _why_ Mokuba wasn't in his room in the first place, enchantment as he watched the moonlight play over his brother's childish face, and a twinge of guilt for being home so late...

He just stood there for a moment, just watching Mokuba. The curtains fell around Mokuba's shoulders, the soft folds seeming to be a pair of wings in the elusive moonlight. Mokuba was curled up on the window seat, his head resting sideways on his shoulder, eyes closed, asleep.

Seto didn't know why, but a corner of his mind was angrily yelling at him, mentally pounding him for being such a bad brother to Mokuba.

No, what was he thinking? He had no reason to think that. Mokuba always described him as "awesome", "great", his "best friend in the whole world". He had never been any hint of dissatisfaction or disappointment in Seto.

Shaking off the thought, he gently pulled the curtains away from his brother. It was late, and Seto doubted the window sill was the most comfortable place to fall asleep on. Mokuba should be in bed. Carefully, so as to not wake him up, Seto drew Mokuba into his arms, lifting him up like a small child.

The younger Kaiba chose that moment to stir and open his eyes. He blinked, looking up with sleepy eyes that could not see clearly.

"Seto...?" His voice was soft and slurred from weariness.

"Yeah, it's me," Seto replied softly, a slight smile on his lips. "I'm sorry I had to work so late."

Mokuba yawned, closing his eyes again. By instinct, his hand reached up to clutch the locket around his neck, and he murmured, "I'm glad you're home, big brother."

It was a short trip back down the hall to Mokuba's room. As he laid Mokuba onto his bed, Seto saw that his breathing was already soft and regular -- he was asleep again. Well, that was good. The kid was still growing, he needed plenty of rest. Straightening, Seto winced slightly as he felt his back muscles protest.

_Good grief, and I feel like an old man, _he thought wryly. _Old and withered, with a slipping memory. _He shook his head at himself.

Seto was almost at the door when he heard a soft voice. He turned around quickly. Had Mokuba woken up? Walking back to his brother's bedside showed him that he was still fast asleep.

"...remember?" Mokuba was muttering to himself, apparently lost in some dream. Half in fascination, but mostly due to his body's unwillingness to continue moving, Seto just stood there, listening to his brother talking to himself in his sleep.

"...wanna house like that...a real nice house...in the mountains..."

The memories came loose in his weary mind. Mokuba had still been a little kid back then, back when they were both in the orphanage. Seto remembered the conversation, though why or how, he didn't know. He just remembered it, every word as clear as day in his mind.

Mokuba, smiling sweetly as he diligently colored a simple picture of a house.

_"I wanna house like that, Seto, a real nice house in the mountains, way up high. Wouldn't that be so cool?"_

"_That would be nice. I'm going to get us a place like that someday, Mokuba."_

Now, nearly ten years later, Seto stood at Mokuba's beside at two in the morning, remembering that childish conversation. He blinked. What was this? Mokuba was asleep, dreaming of childhood. But then...why were there tears in his eyes? For sure enough, a pearly drop rolled down his cheek, even as he continued to talk to himself in his sleep.

"...dreams...Dreams are important..." Seto blinked, his heart beating faster as more memories came to him.

_"Dreams are scary. I don't want to hear about dreams!" _

"Those are just nightmares, Mokuba. They don't mean anything, don't be afraid of them. Real dreams are what make life hopeful and good. Your dreams are who you are, they're precious, priceless. Dreams are important, Mokuba."

Seto gazed down at his brother, experiencing a sensation that he was quite unfamiliar with. It felt as though someone had just sucked the air out of his lungs, and then tossed him over a cliff. Falling...falling...remembering...

_"Why do we have to live with him, Seto?"_

_"Because he's our adopted parent now, Mokuba."_

_"Why? I don't like him. He's scary."_

_"It'll be okay. This is an opportunity for us."_

_"But what about our dreams? What about the house, and the amusement park, and everything?" _

"I would never forget that, Mokuba. I promise you, all your dreams will come true. I promise. Dreams are important, remember? I'll never let you down, little brother."

Kneeling down, he gently wiped the tears from his brother's cheeks.

_"Seto, where are you going?"_

_"I have to go to work again, there's some important business at the company. I'll be home soon, Mokuba."_

_"But what about dinner? You were going to show me that new video game today."_

_"I'm sorry, Mokuba. This is important."_

A teardrop shimmered, caught in Mokuba's dark lashes.

_"I'll always be there for you, little brother. I promise."_

Promises...

_"I always knew you'd come for me. Always!"_

Always...

_"I believe in you, Seto."_

Mokuba...

_"I'll be home for dinner, kiddo."_

_"Alright. Don't be late!"_

_Is that why you're crying, Mokuba?_ Seto wondered. _Because you're remembering those days, remembering my promises to you...and how I've let you down lately? Are you disappointed in me, Mokuba?_

Mokuba sniffled lightly in his sleep, drawing a small, shuddering breath as he turned over. His eyes were squeezed shut, and more tears flowed, leaving shimmering trails on his cheeks. Seto's hand was wet from his brother's tears. But he didn't feel the dampness, didn't feel the ache in his legs from kneeling for so long. He was caught in a loop of guilt and remorse, suddenly remembering his promises, remembering the dreams they'd shared for so long...dreams that he had tossed aside.

He'd thought those days were over. He'd thought the time for dreams was over, that now everything was a reality, that they had everything they could want. But he hadn't taken the time to really see how Mokuba was doing, hadn't had the time to listen to his brother, to be there for him...

Hadn't had the time to cherish and appreciate those dreams, now that they were in reach.

_What kind of a brother am I?_ he asked himself bitterly. Tears pricked at his vision, and his closed his eyes, hands clenching into fists as Mokuba's soft sobs punctuated the silence.

_I am so sorry, Mokuba... I am so sorry..._

"...remember..."

Mokuba was talking again, his voice further muffled by his crying. But Seto could hear each word clearly.

"...we're brothers...always together..." His sobs were receding, though the trail of tears still glimmered wetly.

Always. Seto blinked, trying to clear his vision. Mokuba had turned to face him, and in the dim light, Seto could see that his eyes were half-open. But judging by the hazy look in his eyes, Mokuba was still asleep.

A bit shakily, Seto dried Mokuba's tears with his sleeve. He brushed the black hair away from his eyes, wanting to say something, but knowing that Mokuba wouldn't hear. His throat was constricted too tightly to speak, anyway.

"...always...love you, Seto..."

Was it a trick of the moonlight? He couldn't tell if Mokuba was awake or asleep, whether his words were from his dreams or from conscious thought; there was a brighter light in his eyes, they looked clearer, more awake.

But then, a cloud passed over the moon, and the room was swathed in darkness again.

Seto took a deep breath, forcing the air into his lungs. It felt as though he hadn't breathed in years. He felt years older, his body more weary, but his mind was clearer...though his heart hurt from the sudden emotional distress.

He stood up, blinking to adjust to the darkness. Mokuba had closed his eyes again, his tears had stopped and it was clear from the even breathing that he was now fast asleep.

Not really thinking of what he was doing, Seto leaned over and gently kissed Mokuba on the cheek. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done that. He couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged Mokuba, or smiled and shared a precious moment like they used to. It had all been slipping away from him, so furtively, unnoticed...all that had been precious to him.

He stood there for a long time, basking in the peacefulness of his brother's sleeping presence. Eventually, Seto turned and walked to the door with silent steps. At the door, he turned and looked back.

"Dreams are important, Mokuba," he whispered, almost inaudibly, as if to himself. "I promise you, I won't forget again."

As he closed the door, leaving himself in the darkness of the hallway, a soft tinkling melody reached his ears. The same melody that had woken him up so many times the same melody that had haunted his dreams, the same melody that he'd half-hoped, half-longed to hear tonight.

The music box was playing, just as it always had, and always would. It would always remain constant, always dependent, always there.

Just like dreams should be.

Seto smiled faintly, and walked back to his own bedroom.

_**fin

* * *

**_

Whew. Another contemplative one shot, finally completed. Yay! As always, reviews are appreciated. Thanks for reading!


End file.
